


Sparks

by LuminousGloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bring Back Black, Department of Mysteries, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Obscure Magic, Post-Second War with Voldemort, RS Fireside Tales, Romance, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/pseuds/LuminousGloom
Summary: With the past still uncertain, Sirius embarks on an unpredictable future.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94
Collections: RS Fireside Tales Vol.2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my brilliant betas, thank you the mods for running this fest!
> 
> Prompt:  
> 

A fountain of sparks rises from the hillside, dancing and flickering in the darkness. They move in unison, as though connected, twisting and coiling like a snake, before raining down in a shimmering, glittering curtain, illuminating the frozen marshland and the stumped, crooked trees in an orange glow.

‘What is that?’ Sirius gasps, staring at the flashing lights as though mesmerised. ‘Some sort of -’

‘Fire spirit, yes,’ Remus supplies, just as the sparks die down. Then a whole sheet of fire bursts forth, flames licking across the night sky. ‘They usually stay close to volcanoes. I can’t imagine what on earth it’s doing here.’

‘Perhaps it’s after the peat?’ Sirius swallows hard. He’s got an idea why the thing might be randomly roaming the East Devon countryside, but he’d rather not mention it. ‘Either way, we can’t leave it here.’

Nodding grimly, Remus draws his wand. Then he hesitates. The spirit is sort of bouncing now, creating small puddles of fire, making the heather smoulder and smoke. ‘I’m not sure they can actually be killed. Or extinguished. We could try ice?’

‘Why not?’ Sirius shrugs. ‘Or - you haven’t got a Deluminator on you, have you?’

Remus smiles at him brightly. ‘Sadly no. Good idea, though.’  
Extending his arm almost casually, he smoothly flings a hex, a jet of bright green light that squarely hits the centre of spirit. 

The effect is instantaneous. With a great whoosh, the thing flares up to twice its height, roaring and hissing as it turns, sparks flying, and then twists itself into a tall column of fire.

‘Bollocks,’ Remus huffs and tries another hex, but to no avail. Sirius joins in, they tackle the thing with all sorts and in quick succession – powder, salt, liquid inflammable gas. As ever, Sirius enjoys their effortless dynamic. They’ve fought countless battles, two wars, side by side like this, working in harmony, anticipating each other’s movements. Together, they’ve proven themselves to be very hard to beat. The spirit is having none of it though, flames rising undiminished, coming ever closer, and now it’s hurling red balls of fire at them, too. Sirius parries the attack while Remus casts _Protego Totalum,_ and as the fireballs crash into the magical shield, they dissolve into an explosion of sparks, fizzing and popping. It’s getting unbearably hot. 

Wiping his brow, Remus carries on regardless, and he’s raising his game - using obscure and exotic magic now, from an extensive repertoire he acquired while Sirius was in prison. It’s impressive to watch, but between hexes, he shoots Sirius a concerned look. Sirius himself is giving it all he’s got, too, but none of it seems to work. The spirit just blazes on, drifting towards them through billowing clouds of steam and sooty smoke. A thin trickle of fire runs across the muddy ground like a liquid, rapidly forming a wide circle around them. Then Sirius has an idea. 

‘Moony,’ he says, gripping Remus’ arm. ‘You said you know where this thing belongs, let’s just get it back there? I’ll make the bait, you add the Charm?’

‘Right.’ Remus nods briskly. 

With a swish of his wand, Sirius conjures up a large heap of firewood, dry branches and kindling, which spirals and stacks itself into a sort of pyre not far from the blazing spirit. When Remus casts _‘Portus!’_ it briefly glows with a pale blue light. Sirius can’t help admiring the nonchalance with which Remus performs fairly complicated magic like this. Unfortunately, the spirit isn’t interested in the wood. 

‘We’ll have to lure it there,’ Remus shouts over the roar of the flames. Sirius deflects another fireball as they step out of the shield. 

‘Over here!’ they call out. ‘Come and get us!’ 

Turning and whirling, the spirit whips a long tail of sparks through the air. Remus has sprinted off into the darkness beyond the brand new portkey, but Sirius hangs back. ‘Come on then!’ he cajoles the thing. The smoke is intense, and he can smell burning hair. 

‘Sirius!’ Remus fires a hex, and Sirius ducks and runs as flames swoop up behind him. Wondering if his coat is on fire, Sirius turns to look when a strong arm wraps around his waist, spinning him further, and with a loud crack Sirius finds himself on the opposite hillside. He coughs, still holding on to Remus. ‘Thank you,’ he manages, while Remus pats his back, extinguishing the smouldering fabric. 

‘Look!’ Remus gasps, pointing over Sirius’ shoulder. There’s only a merrily burning bonfire in the distance. The spirit has gone. ‘It’s worked!’

Sirius lets out a sigh of relief and pulls Remus into a hug. ‘Brilliant!’ Away from the searing fire, the night is bitterly cold. Nuzzling into the crook of Remus' neck, Sirius can feel him shaking, and hugs him more tightly. ‘Still fairly invincible, aren’t we?’ he mumbles, adding a Heating Charm under his breath. ‘Back to Grimmauld Place, then?’ he asks eventually.

Remus’ shoulders sag. ‘Yeah,’ he says gruffly. ‘I actually forgot all about tomorrow there, for all of five minutes.’

‘Let’s not worry about tomorrow.’ Sirius is impressed by how convincing he sounds. He kisses Remus briefly, caressing his stubbly cheek. They both reek of smoke. Focusing his mind, he closes his eyes and Disapparates them with a crack.

\--

In the bathroom, Sirius keeps the lamplight low, in case Remus decides to wander in. Having discarded his singed and smoke drenched clothes, he swiftly turns on the shower. He daren’t run a proper bath, hasn’t had one in ages. Not since that first one, months ago. 

When he’d stepped into the pristine white tub back then, in the pristine white Muggle flat that Remus had ‘borrowed,’ the water had immediately streaked black. Darkness seeping out of him like ink. Sirius shrank back at once. Then he dipped just his hand back in and watched the shadows swirling from his skin, tinting the water. There was no odour, no pain, it didn’t stain his skin or the porcelain. Puzzled, Sirius decided against a bath, and quickly pulled the plug. He didn’t mention it to Moony, who’d been on edge enough as it was. He’s never mentioned it since.

Now, the water puddling at his feet doesn’t seem quite as black as it used to get, it’s more of a charcoal grey. As though he’d been covered in ash. Sirius still hasn’t worked out what’s behind this phenomenon, but it’s only one of many things he’s been unable quite make sense of lately. Not a feeling he’s used to, and he’s keeping a close eye, but he’s learnt to stop dwelling on them. 

He lathers the smoke out of this hair, luxuriating in the hot water as he rinses himself off. Wrapped in his old silk bathrobe, he brushes his teeth, gazing at his pale face in the mirror. He remembers standing here as a boy with his brother next to him, ignoring each other, squabbling, play fighting, or acting aloof. And in the background, the sound of Kreacher’s incessant deferential mumbling, their father’s raspy commands, his mother’s harsh reprimands, her chilling laughter. It’s strange to think that not all that much later, Sirius should be standing here like this, alone, the only one of them left alive. At least these days, the thought of Regulus’ death no longer pains him. It’s all right, where he is.

In Sirius’ old bedroom, Remus is perched on the large carved ebony bed, examining the letter again. Looking for clues, perhaps. It came this afternoon, while they were out walking on the misty beach in Devon, the sea roaring in their ears. Under a leaden sky, the eagle owl circled overhead like an ominous shadow, before descending on them with a screech. It wouldn’t let Remus near it, so Sirius detached the letter carefully. At first, the official Ministry seal gave them both a fright. But Kingsley’s in charge now. There should be nothing to fear. Using very formal wording, the Minister requested a meeting with Sirius at his earliest convenience, ideally tomorrow. 

When he’d finished reading out the letter, Remus stared at him, his face ashen. ‘I’ll come with you, of course,’ he said shakily. 

Rolling up the parchment, Sirius attempted a carefree smile. ‘Just tying up loose ends, isn’t he?’ He shrugged, swallowing hard. ‘It was bound to happen sooner or later. The war’s been over for months… All things considered, he did give us a decent grace period.’

‘Yeah.’ Remus nodded darkly. ‘I wonder what he wants.’

They still haven’t been able to riddle it out. 

‘It’ll be all right, you know,’ Sirius says quietly, slipping out of his robe and into his striped pyjamas. ‘Otherwise he’d have been in touch much sooner.’

Remus makes an indistinct sound, and drops the letter onto the nightstand. Lost in thought, with his hair still damp from the shower and boyishly dishevelled, he strongly resembles the unselfconscious, endlessly intriguing teenager Sirius used to secretly lust after back in their Hogwarts dormitory. He looks up, watching Sirius pull on his pyjama top. ‘Remember,’ he says, ‘when I first came to stay with you here? That weekend - in Sixth Year?’

‘How could I forget?’ Sirius grins. ‘I’d been fantasising about it for weeks! Counting the minutes…’

‘Yeah.’ Remus grins, too. ‘I was petrified of this place, even though your parents were away. And you-’ He gives Sirius a look that still makes Sirius feel a bit giddy. ‘You seemed to have had all the pizzazz knocked out of you. At first, anyway.’

‘I couldn’t believe you were really here!’ Sirius climbs into bed next to him. ‘You might have hated this place - I certainly did. And I wanted more than anything for you to have a really nice time.’

‘Which we did,’ Remus says roughly. They’d barely left Sirius’ bedroom - or, in fact, this very bed. ‘I still think of that weekend whenever I’m back here. If only we’d known back then...’

‘That absolutely nothing would change?’ Sirius deadpans, delighted when Remus actually laughs. He’s not heard him laugh much recently. ‘I probably would’ve been a lot less nervous back then.’ 

Remus looks doubtful. ‘Nervous?’ Then he turns towards him under the covers. ‘About that fire spirit… It might of course be nothing, just a random thing, but you don’t think there’s anything Dark afoot, do you?’

‘Definitely not.’ Sirius says a tad too quickly, shaking his head emphatically. ‘It must’ve got lost, that’s all. And I actually enjoyed fighting it together. We’ve always been a good team. And a bit of excitement felt sort of - invigorating, you know?’

Raising his eyebrows, Remus yawns. ‘And here I would’ve thought we’ve had enough excitement to last us a lifetime…’

‘Never!’ Sirius beams, and leans in for a kiss.

\---

It’s still dark outside when Sirius wakes suddenly. There’s something there… a low scraping, scratching sound. He sits up, listening. Then, following the sounds, he pads across the creaking floorboards to the window. He peers out, and swiftly points his wand, barely whispering the jinx. With a satisfying ‘pop’, the blast-ended skrewt explodes, tumbling from the window sill into the overgrown garden three floors below. 

Crawling into bed again, Sirius thinks back. There’ve been scarabs, several giant moths, ghouls, boggarts, a banshee, and a poison-spined centipede. Countless fire crabs, blast-ended skrewts, and flesh eating slugs. Even if over time the creatures have grown more vicious in nature, a full blown fire spirit still is a massive step up. Perhaps they did really only happen upon it by coincidence. He’ll worry about it later. Stretching out, he closes his eyes, and imagines himself dissolving into comforting darkness. 

\---

He’s ripped from a pleasant dream by an almighty racket. The doorbell rings incessantly, and Remus, already up and half dressed and grumbling to himself bad temperedly, pulls his jumper over his head as he stumbles out of the room. 

By the time Sirius can form a coherent thought, Remus is stomping down the stairs. Blinking in the grey morning light, Sirius can hear him talking to someone at the door, someone who apparently proceeds to march straight into the house. His cousin, by the sounds of it. Tonks, talking nineteen to the dozen in her cheerful, raspy voice. Why would she be bothering them now?

‘What have you got to be so chirpy about at this hour?’ Sirius berates her when, washed and dressed, he joins them in the dusty kitchen. 

‘Looking good,’ Tonks grins appreciatively. ‘I was just telling Remus here that he might want to wear something less - scorched to the Ministry. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why you’ve been summoned. Never hurts to make an effort though, eh?’ 

‘All my good clothes are in Devon.’ Sirius shrugs, helping himself to tea, scrambled eggs, and toast. ‘So this old thing’ll have to do.’ It is a very nice suit, really - black silk, Muggle style, with a waistcoat and a few magically added extras, such as secret pockets and a wand loop in the sleeve.

‘As it happens, we did have other things on our hands at the time,’ Remus says gruffly. ‘Hence the burn marks and so on.’

‘So I’ve heard!’ Tonks beams at him, setting down her mug of tea with a thump. ‘That’s why I had to come over, wanted to hear about it first hand, of course. Auror’s curiosity. A Vesuvian fire spirit! That’s bloody phenomenal, I thought they were indestructible?’

Sirius narrows his eyes at her. ‘How did you hear about it?’

‘Work,’ she says good-naturedly, ‘ _Portus_ is a restricted Charm, remember? Nothing to worry about though, we’ll sort it when we get in. Where did you send the spirit, then? Vesuvius?’

‘Stromboli.’ Remus takes a long swig of tea. Then he tells her the whole story. Tonks watches him with undisguised awe.

‘Inspired!’ she exclaims once he’s finished his tale. ‘Not that I’m surprised, of course. But not many people would’ve come up with that, on the hop. You should really think of taking this sort of thing up professionally. With your skills, and your experience…’ As Sirius raises his eyebrows at her, her words die on her lips. She clears her throat awkwardly. ‘Well, you’d be great at it.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Sirius says lightly.

Remus is staring hard at his half eaten piece of toast. 

Tonks takes a deep breath. ‘All right. Yes. I expect he’s going to ask you about _that_ today,’ she adds quietly. ‘But he’s not briefed us or anything, so I don’t think-’

‘Right.’ Remus nods briskly, getting to his feet. ‘Shall we, then?’

‘Yes.’ She gives him a long look, and not for the first time Sirius thinks that if he didn’t know how happy she was with Fleur, he’d suspect her of having designs on Moony. 

\---

‘Are you all right?’ Remus asks quietly when they pass into the Atrium.

Sirius gives him a brisk nod, even though he’s feeling decidedly queasy. He can hear Bellatrix’s cackle in his mind, and Remus’ scream, and Harry -  
It’s all right, he repeats to himself, we’ve defeated them all. Annihilated his cousin, and all her cronies. Voldemort is no more. It’s all over.

A haughty man introduces himself as the ministerial aide, and then the Minister himself appears, along with a short woman in dark blue robes.

‘Thank you for meeting with me at such short notice,’ Kingsley beams at them. ‘This is Madam Probitt,’ he introduces the slight woman with wispy grey hair. ‘An Unspeakable, from the Department of Mysteries.’ 

Remus blanches visibly, while the woman smiles engagingly and energetically shakes their hands. ‘Speaking today, though! And today I’ll only need you, Mr Black.’ She cheerfully pats Remus’ arm. ‘We’ll get to you yet!’ 

With that, she and the aide stride off, taking Sirius with them. Looking over his shoulder, he gives Remus an encouraging little smile. But Remus is just staring.

Kingsley escorts him to the lift before he needs to rush off to a meeting. Down on level nine, Madam Probitt leads Sirius down the black tiled corridor, only dimly lit by the blue flames of several torches. Sirius can feel his heartbeat thumping in his throat, but he manages to stay calm, bracing himself. To his surprise, they turn a corner and enter a dark room of indeterminable size. There’s a large conference table, lit by two blue lamps, but the rest of the room is swathed in shadows.

As instructed, Sirius takes a seat on one of the straight backed wooden chairs. Madam Proditt sits opposite him, neatly placing a notebook and a pencil on the table in front of her, and roll of parchment and a long, silver quill a little off to the side.

‘Right, Mr Black,’ Proditt smiles at him. ‘Thank you for this interview. Why don’t we begin at the beginning?’ The silver Quick-Quotes quill has eagerly sprung into action, scratching across the parchment, recording every word. ‘What exactly do you recall after you fell through the Veil?’

Sirius takes a deep breath. ‘The first thing I remember is finding myself on a park bench, by a lake. Over in St James’ Park, as it happens, not far from here, though I didn’t know it at the time. I was exhausted, my head was swimming, and my mind was sort of blank. Apart from the pigeons and the ducks there was no one around. I got up and started to walk, blindly, following some instinct without questioning it. A sort of feeling kept pulling me along. Even though I didn’t really know anything.’ 

She smiles at him encouragingly. ‘How did your body feel?’

‘I don’t know…’ Sirius rubs his forehead. ‘As though I’d been Stupefied? Weak, and a bit dazed. It was very cold, there were lots of dead leaves on the ground. I came to the edge of a pavement and remembered what a road was, and that I’d need to cross this one. Took me ages. Muggle cars, you see. I know now that it was very early on a Saturday morning, so there wouldn’t have been much traffic, but it felt like a nightmare to navigate.’ 

His feet seemed to know where to go, following some invisible, meandering path. 

‘I walked through Green Park and into Mayfair, then Soho, St Giles, Bloomsbury… Not that I knew what anywhere was called at the time. I just kept walking.’ 

Wandering down quiet streets, past buildings that seemed vaguely familiar. There was so much to look at. He needed to arrive. Then he would sleep.

‘Did you have an idea of what you might be walking towards, and to what purpose?’

Sirius shakes his head. ‘Something was driving me on, a certainty that I had to keep moving. I knew that I needed to get somewhere. There were various landmarks I sort of recognised, words vaguely drifting into my mind - Soho Square, Centrepoint, the British Museum, the Mount Pleasant sorting office - but only in the vaguest sense.’ 

Walking up the steep incline of Rosebery Avenue he felt the pull getting stronger. He was getting close. 

‘Did you feel hungry at all, or thirsty?’

‘I don’t think food or drink would’ve even occurred to me at the time,’ Sirius says thoughtfully. ‘From Angel, I carried on uphill into Highbury. Somewhere near Highbury Fields, I found a particular street, then a particular house, with a front door. It didn’t look familiar at all. Unsurprising really, seeing as I’d never been there. I knocked on the door, had to knock several times, and -’ Sirius stops abruptly. The feeling had been overwhelming, and he feels strangely overwhelmed even now, remembering it. ‘And I’d arrived,’ he croaks, clearing his throat. 

‘Mr Lupin was expecting you there?’

‘He was there. I don’t know about expecting.’ Sirius remembers the door swinging open, and a thin and haggard man gaping at him in shock. Red rimmed eyes staring, out of a drawn and sallow face. 

“Hello, Remus,” Sirius knew to say. Because this man was undoubtedly Remus, and Sirius understood exactly who Remus was. And there was that feeling, the intimation of something wonderful.

Gesturing, Remus invited him in. He was wearing his best suit, which vaguely struck Sirius as unusual. The faded fabric was very crumpled, as though he’d slept in it.

Stopping in the hall, Sirius turned to glance at Remus again. There was a surge of something. Great relief, and joy. To be with this person again. He was so glad to see him. As little as anything made sense to him in his dreamlike state, this one thing was perfectly clear. He grinned at Remus, and Remus - wide eyed, and swallowing hard - Remus laughed. 

‘You came,’ he gasped.

‘Course I did.’ Sirius shrugged, and grinned. 

‘Did you recognise him?’ Probitt asks.

Sirius nods. ‘I think I said his name.’ 

Laughing, they’d embraced. Stood there for a long time, their bodies pressed together. Yes, Sirius thought, breathing Remus’ scent, retracing the solid shape of the man, listening to his heartbeat. He felt peace settling in his chest, things falling into place. And he tried to calm Remus’ heaving shoulders, his hacking sobs. 

‘He gave me a potion to drink,’ Sirius continues. ‘And made me cheese on toast. We didn’t talk much. I was too exhausted, he seemed too stunned, just kept asking if I was all right…’ 

Remus seemed awestruck, touching him, as though to check he was real. 

‘Then I had a bit of a lie down. Slept for three days, apparently, barely waking up at all. When I got up at last, I was back to my old self. Healthy, functioning. Normal. Body full of energy, and a clear mind. Magic as strong as ever, memories intact.’ He grins at her. ‘The man you see before you now, in fact.’

She wants to know more about the flat - a random flat Remus had occupied in the guise of a house sitter while its Muggle owners holidayed in the Caribbean. He describes it as best he can, the sleek, modern interior, the strange, acrid smell in the air. Remus had chosen the place carefully. For this sort of Dark magic, he had wanted no magical interference at all. 

When asked about the exact magical workings Remus had performed there, Sirius only shrugs and shakes his head. Remus had attempted to explain it to him, not long after Sirius' return. Lying in bed, touching him, pressing lazy kisses to his chest and throat, he told Sirius about the ritual. Older than the hills, it was dangerous, intricate magic that over the centuries had been performed barely a handful of times. Remus had stumbled upon a crucial element by accident, realised what he’d found, and worked out the rest with stringent precision. Something about birch tar, asphodels, conjuration, a black bell, and blood sacrifice. 

He really doesn’t want to incriminate Moony any further. ‘I’ve pieced a few things together, but…’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Anyway, you lot’ve got Aurors at the ready for the slightest transgressions, surely you already know all about it?’ 

‘Yes and no.’ She smiles at him kindly. ‘Let’s say we’re looking to close a few gaps in our knowledge.’

‘All I know is, it was ancient magic, very obscure. And highly risky.’ 

‘Right.’ Proddit says after a pause. ‘Can you tell me the date it happened?’

‘January.’ Sirius hesitates. ‘I returned on the 23rd. I believe he’d done the deed two days earlier.’ 

‘Last January?’

Sirius clears his throat. ‘The one before, actually.’

Her eyes widen, and she makes a note in her book. ‘Goodness. We are behind, aren’t we?’ 

‘I suppose there was a lot of Dark magic going around at the time.’ Sirius shrugs. ‘And sinister forces at work even here in the Ministry.’

Proditt looks at him thoughtfully. ‘How did you and Mr Lupin explain your return?’ she asks then. ‘I understand the facts of your demise in the Death Chamber were widely known.’

‘We didn’t tell anyone. Not at first. There was no reason to, nothing to be gained by it. And we were still adjusting to the situation ourselves. Remus had been away trying to recruit werewolves before Christmas, and for all people knew he’d gone back there... Instead, we went to ground, at Remus’ aunt’s cottage in Devon.’ 

In an eerie, wintery echo of their stay there two summers earlier, they’d settled into a simple life out in the middle of nowhere. Raging winter storms, long walks along the cliffs, the roaring sea. Reading books by the fire, getting used to his obstinate second hand wand. Furtively annihilating the scarab beetles that kept trying to crawl in. Simple meals, dark ale. Closing the shutters at night, relishing in each other’s company. The delights of that creaky old bed, their playful, sensuous intimacy. Of course it couldn’t last. 

‘Professors Dumbledore and Moody knew what Remus had been planning.’ He decides against mentioning Tonks. ‘They’d done their best to dissuade him, but knowing they’d failed, they tracked him down, hoping that he would only have been gravely injured rather than killed outright.’

Remus and Sirius had only been in Devon for three days when Albus appeared on their doorstep, casually ‘looking in on them,’ and actually causing Remus to freeze with terror. Sirius had never seen him like this - white as a sheet, practically mute. He’d never seen Dumbledore get quite so emotional, either, when his gaze fell upon Sirius, who greeted him, very much alive. It took Albus several moments to compose himself.

Sirius describes how Dumbledore, and later Alastor Moody, had pelted him with questions. Some of them absurdly banal, others precise and detailed. Sirius endured their strange, suspicious scrutiny, until, apparently satisfied, they took their leave again. 

Listening intently, Proditt nods, giving nothing away. ‘Indeed.’ 

‘As for Harry and his friends, I’m afraid we only let them know once it became strictly necessary.’ Harry had been furious, even more so once he’d worked out for just how long they’d let him believe Sirius dead and gone. He’d actually thumped Sirius in the chest repeatedly, angrily wiping at his tears with his fists. Of course he’d understood, eventually, not least thanks to Hermione. She and Ron even apologised to Remus for thinking him odd and pathetic, getting a new dog that resembled Padfoot as much as it did. Not that this ‘new dog’ fooled his old friend Crookshanks for a second.

‘Our secrecy turned out to be very useful. We were able to make plans to aid our cause against Voldemort. We knew the element of surprise would eventually come in handy. As of course it did.’ He remembers the astonished gasps when they appeared during the Battle of Hogwarts, the confusion, the horror and disbelief in Bellatrix’s eyes.

‘In the end, it proved invaluable.’ Sirius takes a deep breath. ‘But that’s not the only reason. Remus was petrified of the implications. Never mind the repercussions of having performed Dark magic of such magnitude, or the mere idea that Voldemort or his followers might find out and force him to revive some of their own…’ He shudders at the thought of it. 

‘Even on our side, what if people begged him to do the same for them? What with another war raging, all the killings... So many of us lost. It weighed on Remus heavily. Still weighs on him now, in fact.’ 

Remus still thinks he’s been extraordinarily selfish, still has a hard time looking Molly in the eye. 

‘Even though he couldn’t possibly have done it again. He knows it, and they know it, too. No one in their right mind would ask that of him. Merlin knows why it’s even worked at all.’ He gestures at Proditt. ‘That’s what you really want to know, isn’t it? And I’m afraid I haven’t got an answer.’

‘We’re working on a theory,’ she says pleasantly. Sirius is amazed that so far, there has been no mention whatsoever of the fact Remus has committed a serious crime. Perhaps that’s someone else’s department. ‘Did you personally experience any ill effects?’

Sirius resolutely shakes his head. Then he thinks that perhaps he should give her something. ‘I, um. Well, when I take a shower, or wash my hands, there seems to be some sort of - darkness seeping out. Turning the water black.’ 

Raising her eyebrows, she nods and notes something down. 

‘It used to be like ink, but now it’s more of a dark grey… perhaps it’s fading.’ 

‘Interesting! What does Mr Lupin think might be causing this phenomenon?’ 

Sirius shrugs sheepishly. ‘He doesn’t know. I’ve been keeping it from him.’ Hasn’t always been easy, either.

With a flick of her wrist, she Conjures a silver basin, and with a second flick fills it with water. ‘Would you care to demonstrate, please?’

He does as she asks, and Proditt watches in fascination but doesn’t really comment beyond ‘Ah!’ and ‘I see. Very curious.’ Passing him a purple hand towel, she proceeds to ask him a whole ream of questions. He answers them diligently, describing his various undercover activities prior to the Battle of Hogwarts, and how he and Remus had fared during that battle. He explains why the danger hadn’t worried either of them, despite everything - there wouldn’t have been much left to live for if they hadn’t done their absolute utmost to defeat Voldemort. 

Eventually, she seems satisfied. The burgundy robed aide reappears, ready to escort Sirius out of the chamber. Sirius gets to his feet, and Proditt shakes his hand once again, thanking him profusely. 

‘One last thing,’ she says as he turns to leave. ‘How would you describe your relationship with Mr Lupin?’

Taken aback, Sirius clears his throat. ‘Our relationship?’ He shrugs. ‘Remus is - my best friend. My lover, and husband. The love of my life. So I suppose I’d describe it as - fairly close?’

She smiles and nods, noting down something else. ‘Thank you so much for your time, Mr Black.’ 

\---

Just outside the door, a grinning Kingsley greets him warmly. ‘Not as bad as you thought, was it?’

‘Not at all.’ Sirius shakes his hand and follows Kingsley and his aide down the gloomy corridor.

‘I’ve been listening in, I’m afraid. Fascinating stuff. You know, we’ve been wondering how it had happened for months. Never seemed quite the right time to bring it up.’

‘Kingsley, I mean Minister -’ Sirius asks him urgently, ‘about Remus. Are you going to-’

Kingsley raises a hand. ‘Of course I’ll need to speak to Remus about all this in some detail. However I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until I get back from abroad. But first things first…’ Beaming now, he gestures for Sirius to step into his enormous office. Sirius stops near his elaborately carved desk, admiring the vaulted ceiling and the polished marble floor.

Following a brisk knock on the door, Remus is ushered in. He appears calm and collected, even if the look he shoots Sirius betrays that he’s anything but, before greeting Kingsley with a quick, forced smile. The aide comes to stand by Kingsley’s desk, clutching a large, gold embossed folder to his chest. 

‘Good to see you, Remus,’ Kingsley says warmly. ‘I’m glad you’ve been able to join us, too.’ As instructed, they lower themselves into plush velvet chairs before the Minister continues. ‘I’ve heard about your extraordinary prowess regarding a certain fire spirit! Very impressive of course, though I daresay no one is particularly surprised. In that same vein, I would like to make you an offer.’ He gives them a sly grin. ‘We’ve got these cases cropping up every now and again, playing havoc with Muggle relations. Would you consider taking them on professionally? As assignments for the Ministry?’

Sirius and Remus exchange a quick glance.

‘Yes, of course,’ Remus says.

‘Absolutely,’ Sirius agrees.

‘Excellent!’ Kingsley grins again, with a look on his face that reassures them that even though he’s following the rules of official protocol, it’s nothing but roleplay. ‘We’ll be in touch with you as and when. Now though, at last, congratulations are in order! My sincere apologies that this has taken so long. But as they say, late is better than never.’ He solemnly nods at Sirius as his aide lays the gold embossed document case open on the desk before him. ‘On behalf of the Wizarding Community of the United Kingdom, I would like to take the opportunity to present you, Sirius Black, with an official pardon. Wrongly convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew, as well as twelve Muggles by the names of…’ 

Sirius’ head swims as Kingsley keeps talking, the words echoing in his mind. His heart pounds in his chest, and his throat feels tight, as though he’s about to well up. He blindly reaches for Remus’ hand. Remus looks dumbstruck, staring at Kingsley and then at Sirius in wonder as Kingsley carries on, about ‘a shocking miscarriage of justice,’ and the horrors of Azkaban. Something about compensation.

Remus is beaming at Sirius now. Sirius swallows hard. 

They watch Kingsley sign the large document with a flourish, before Kingsley presents him with the folder.

‘It’s all I’ve -,’ Sirius just about manages, staring at the parchment in the leather case. ‘Thank you.’

‘Not at all.’ Kingsley says fondly, spreading his large hands. ‘Once again, I’m sorry about the delay. And, um,’ he coughs a little, ‘just so you know, I’ve taken the liberty to inform the press. I’m afraid there’ll be a bit of a circus. Curse me all you like now, but it’ll be worth it, you’ll see. You’re a free man, at last. From tomorrow, everyone will know.’ 


	2. Chapter 2

‘I can’t believe we’ve walked into the Ministry, and walked out again,’ Remus says later, still looking shell shocked. 

‘If this doesn’t call for a party, I dunno what does!’ Tonks beams at them excitedly, swaying in her seat as the Muggle black cab takes a sharp corner.

‘Bloody hell,’ Sirius mumbles as he’s squashed into Remus side for a moment. ‘I think I’ve talked to enough people in the last ten minutes to last me a lifetime.’ 

‘You were brilliant, though!’ Remus squeezes his thigh. ‘Remarkably patient - even with vermin like Gorm from the Prophet.’

‘He’ll get what’s coming to him, no doubt,’ Sirius says darkly. Only a few months ago people like Gorm had thought nothing of ‘reporting’ only the worst pure-blood propaganda. ‘Hopefully there’ll be a bit of a clearout. Thank you for getting us out of there, Dora.’

‘All part of the service. So what do you say, how about a knees up?’

‘At Grimmauld Place?’ Sirius rolls his eyes. ‘I think not.’ Is that a flobberworm creeping up the passenger side mirror? His wand hand twitches.

‘How about down in Devon, then?’ his cousin insists. ‘At your little secret bolthole? Now that you no longer have to keep a low profile, you might as well…’ She shakes her head at their unenthusiastic reaction, and her bright orange hair suddenly turns shocking pink. ‘Have it at mine, then! Fleur and I are renowned for our parties. And her cooking is magnificent…’ She kisses her fingertips as her gaze dreamily drifts out of the window.

‘Thank you, Dora, that’s very kind,’ Remus begins, ‘but-’

‘You should get your own place, really,’ she interrupts him. ‘Here in London. Ditch the old family place, and get somewhere new. Somewhere for the two of you. You’re starting a new life! You should do it properly.’

\---

‘Perhaps she’s right,’ Sirius says later, when they’ve waved off Tonks and settled into a dark corner of The Horseman. The dingy Muggle pub used to be an old haunt of theirs back in the day, before the first war. Not ready to face Diagon Alley, or wanting to go ‘home,’ it seemed like a good option. ‘Sometimes I used to picture us, living in our own grown up place together. Once we were older, of course. And, I don’t know, wiser. Once the war was over.’ He sighs. ‘Only then everything went to shit.’

Watching him, Remus nods thoughtfully. 

‘And with everything that followed,’ Sirius continues, ‘I never would have dared imagine… But we might as well, now? Sell the old pile, and find somewhere we really like? I wouldn’t mind living in the Big Smoke again, if I’m honest.’

‘Sure.’ Remus toys with his pint glass. ‘I think - I’d probably be happy anywhere. With you. But even if I sold the place in Devon, I don’t think I could afford-’

Sirius holds up his hand. ‘We’re not going to argue about money. There’s no point, and you know it. Best use for my ancestor’s lucre there is.’

‘All right. Fine.’ Smiling now, Remus relents with a shrug. 

‘It’s a deal, then?’ They clink glasses. Sirius is genuinely excited by this new plan. ‘We’ll just have a look around, see if there’s anything we fancy? No pressure.’ 

Remembering something, Remus’ eyes widen. ‘Oh! I forgot to tell you.’ He pats his breast pocket, retrieving a piece of parchment. ‘Dora organised this for me earlier, for the unauthorised _Portus._ It’s all sorted, apparently! There was not even a fine or anything...’ 

‘Always knew she fancied you.’ Sirius says darkly.

Remus grins at him. ‘It’s not that. Look at the wording.’ Flattening the document, he points at the paragraphs of curly writing rendered in purple ink. _‘Cleared of all misdemeanours._ Dated, signed, approved by the Wizengamot, and everything. You don’t think -’ he swallows hard, deadly serious now. ‘But she knows what I did! They all do!’

‘She was hardly going to turn you in, was she?’ Sirius picks up the piece of parchment to study it more closely. ‘Unless they’re planning to prosecute you at a later date. But why would they? I mean, what would be the point?’ Scanning the official statement, his jaw drops in amazement. If this is valid, they won’t be arresting Remus for having committed a Monstrous, Offensive, Unspeakably Loathsome Deed after all. Ever.

‘Looks like she’s played a bit of a blinder there!’ He chuckles, still in disbelief. ‘Or rather, both of them have, she and Kingsley. Now that we’re about to be employed by the Ministry…’ Now that it’s really sinking in, he can’t help laughing. Out loud, great barks of laughter.  
They’ll no longer be hiding, no longer living on borrowed time! They’ll be able to just live, like normal people. In peacetime. Wiping his eyes, he can’t seem to stop. Two bits of parchment is all it took.

Next morning, Sirius is still in bed, dozing next to a gently snoring Remus, when two owls flutter in to deliver the post with a thud. Alongside an excited, congratulatory reply from Harry to their message last night, there are several property listings magazines, and a sheaf of newspapers. Glancing at the Gatekeeper, the Quibbler, and the Daily Prophet, Sirius finds that he’s very prominently featured in each. Almost front page news! 

He doesn’t mind the photographs - although he’s still too pale and sort of haggard looking, at least his stance is relaxed. Just behind him, Remus is awkwardly trying to keep out of shot. ‘Wrongly Convicted’ the headlines read, and ‘The Godfather: Acquitted at last.’ There’s no mention of the Veil whatsoever.

\---

Neither Sirius or Remus say very much during their first viewing. They’ve been to see a great number of houses. For some reason they’d both wanted to take a look at this one, despite its dismal state of repair - a tall, Georgian townhouse in an unfashionable part of London known mainly for its high crime rate. But there is something about it, Sirius thinks as he navigates the rotten floorboards, ignoring the damp walls, the broken bannisters and crumbling stucco, just taking in the light. A sense of calm, perhaps. The feeling of wanting to linger. 

To get a sense of the area, they go for a little wander afterwards rather than Apparating straight back. Barely halfway down the road, they’ve agreed. A few well-placed Charms speed the process along, and before long they’ve signed the contract, and got the keys. 

That first evening, they clink bottles of ale as their shadows dance across the decaying wallpaper. Moony is already working out angles and areas and sizing up the job at hand, the feasibility of various architectural features, while Sirius takes another tour of the place by wandlight. He stops briefly to throw a silent jinx at a creature rustling in the debris by a fireplace - it turns out to be only a rat. Walking from room to room, he touches the walls that will soon be their new home, and tries to swallow down that lump in his throat.

\---

Even now, Sirius still can’t quite believe that Remus is going along with this. He would’ve expected him to resist the idea, to scoff at the extravagance of it, the unnecessary expense. But Remus has simply agreed, to all of it. And he’s enjoying himself. At one of the fine establishments in Savile Row, they choose various combinations of cloth and lining, and cotton for shirts. As is obligatory, they crack jokes as the young cutter takes endless measurements, and instruct him to allow for a little give - they’re not planning to stay this scrawny if they can help it. ‘We can always make adjustments later,’ the cutter explains.

There’s a strange, secret thrill to pretending to be Muggles. Of course Sirius relishes in how this behaviour would’ve enraged his own family, but he enjoys the vague connection to Remus’ own background, too. Not that the Muggle half of Remus’ family would’ve ever set foot in this sort of place. But Sirius had been very fond of Hope Lupin, and somehow, in his mind spending time with unsuspecting Muggles also sort of honours her memory.

Afterwards, Remus lets Sirius buy him oysters and dressed crab and lots of excellent wine, without much more than a happy shrug. Back when they’d first lived together, before the first war, Remus would’ve wryly asked what exactly they were celebrating. This Remus, today, doesn’t seem too bothered. Or perhaps he doesn’t need to ask. 

\---

It takes several long weeks of hard graft and intricate spellwork to get the house in working order. The first thing Sirius does is repair the large, splintered window frames, and the heavy front door. Of course he uses magical reinforcements, but nothing like Grimmauld Place, or anywhere they stayed during either war. It’s nice, getting used to peacetime.

Once they’ve settled how they’ll use the various rooms, they Transfigure them accordingly, expanding them, changing their proportions. They replace the floors, renovate the plumbing, decide on paints and fixtures. Moony even gets the Muggle electricity working again. 

In front of the house, they've kept the warped fence of fat cast iron spikes, and left the wonky tree untouched, with a massive shrubbery acting as a sort of wall to the street. They’ve got rid of most of the nettles, and mended the cracked checkerboard tiles. Remus plants various magical plants in the back garden, and herbs in pots and urns. He's good at growing things, at planting and potting and the rest of it, he's got the sort of patience that Sirius has never had.

Then one evening, when they’ve achieved most of what they’d planned, they share a cigarette on the front steps. Looking out into the darkness, at the tiny park in the grubby square – frequented by dubious characters but perfect for Apparating to – they pull each other close. 

‘How about fish and chips for supper?’ Remus suggests, ever the romantic.

‘Good idea,’ Sirius nods. ‘I'll get the fire going.’ He leans in, and they kiss, slowly and languidly, and out in the open.

A passing neighbour almost drops her shopping. She stares at them, mouth agape, as though in shock. 

‘All right?’ Sirius calls out cheerfully.

‘Hello, I - er, did you just move in?’ Laughing, she shakes her head. ‘We thought - since we never seen any moving vans or builders or anything -’

‘We’ve been doing it up ourselves,’ Sirius explains.

‘That’s a relief! And welcome, of course.’ She laughs again. ‘We thought the place was haunted!’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Remus grins. ‘It’s only us.’ 

A necromancer and werewolf, and an ex-prisoner back from the dead, Sirius thinks. Only us. Nothing to worry about.

‘We should think of Muggle deflecting measures,’ he suggests later. True to form, Moony’s already given them some thought.

They've restored all three fireplaces, and got the one in the living room hooked up to the Floo network. While they devour their fish supper, Harry briefly pokes his head out of the flames. He apologises for not having been around to help them more, and congratulates them on a job well done. Then he urges them to have a housewarming party. Remus and Sirius laugh and pretend to let Harry talk them round – of course they were always going to have a party. Eventually.

Because despite everything, they’ve been keeping themselves to themselves. Apart from Harry and Ginny, they’ve only seen Hermione and Ron barely a handful of times. Tonks has been popping by unexpectedly, and Moody came by to check on their progress. Sirius and Remus have been declining most invitations, or messages from friends trying to lure them out with dinners, or drinks. All of them know that Sirius is back, but whichever explanation they’ve chosen to believe, the fact he’s alive still baffles them. Sirius knows that distracted stare, that puzzled expression. The way they watch Remus, as though he were an Exploding Snap card set to Stun.

After supper, Sirius licks the salt from Remus' fingers. He slowly strips Moony of his clothes, looking for that scent he loves, mixed with the smell of fresh sawdust, Greave's General Machine Grease, sweat, and soldering wire. Remembering to block the Floo, they proceed to shag right there on the freshly sanded floorboards.

The next day, they collect their things from Grimmauld place, and the new furniture they'd chosen together, and they properly move in.

\---

‘It’s got to be somewhere nearby,’ Remus says, studying the visitor’s map again. ‘If Hexham is that way, and Devil’s Water down there…’ 

‘I think we’d best head into the bog’. Sirius scans the sparse, rolling moorland with its low, gnarled shrubs and coarse orange grass, the sharp crags on the horizon. ‘Let me go on a quick reccy.’ 

Melting into his dog shape, he happily bounds off across the muddy ground. He can smell damp moss, lichen, and traces of other dogs. And grouse! Following the more interesting tracks for a bit, he forces himself to get back to the task at hand. People have been moving past here. A shortcut, perhaps? From the crest of a hill, he surveys the foggy landscape. Near a little stream down in the valley, there’s a line of broken fence posts, and a thing that looks like a tree -

He turns and races back, barking loudly. This has got to be it. Unless there’s something else on the loose in these parts? He yelps in surprise when Moony appears by his side with a crack, and runs ahead to show him. As they make their way down the hill, Sirius begins to feel cold, and increasingly queasy. Slowing to a trot, and against every instinct, he decides to turn human again. ‘Can you feel that?’ he asks Moony, who is calmly striding along.

‘Magic, you mean? There is - something.’ Remus throws him a questioning glance. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, course.’ Sirius coughs a little. ‘Must’ve been something I ate.’ He’s resolved to stay cool and collected, but just as they reach the little stream, he stops in his tracks. ‘Moony, wait. There’s something nasty about - whatever this is. That tree. It’s not really a tree, but...’ Even at a distance, he can see that the trunk is moving - there are torsos rising out of it, the craggy bark smoothing into damp, purplish skin. The swollen bodies are swaying and writhing, some of their arms entwined, and their strangely distorted faces continuously moaning in a low, dissonant wail. It’s making him want to retch. 

‘Spirits?’ Remus asks. ‘A sort of haunting?’ He’s drawn his wand, but apparently undisturbed, keeps approaching the horrible thing. Sirius hangs back. The fog is rolling in fast. 

‘This will end badly,’ one of the spirits screeches, turning its colourless eyes on Remus. Remus doesn’t seem to hear it.

‘Death, death!’ another chimes in. 

‘You’re not even real!’ Sirius’ mother’s voice hisses, her face twisting to stare right at Sirius.

‘Harry will die,’ a snake-like face glares at him, ‘I’ll crush him yet!’ 

And then Bellatrix’ cackle rings in his ears.

‘Moony,’ Sirius gasps, feeling nauseous. 

‘There’s some sort of sap emanating from the bark,’ Remus says, apparently entranced, and now almost within reach of those grasping, horrible arms. 

‘Remus!’ Sirius calls out sharply. ‘Stop!’ 

Remus whips around. The creatures strain to touch him.

‘We’ll kill him,’ one of them gleefully informs Sirius.

‘Or maim him,’ agrees another.

‘He thinks you are a monster anyway,’ jeers a third. ‘Run along now, and let us have him.’

‘Ridikkulus!’ Sirius casts with all the strength he can muster, but the horrible spirits merely shriek with laughter.

‘What is it? What can you see?’ Moony asks him urgently.

‘Ghouls, or something.’ Fighting the overwhelming urge to make a break for it, he stretches out his hand. ‘They’re trying to pull you in, come away from there...’ 

When Remus turns back to face the tree, swaying slightly as though in a daze, Sirius leaps into his dog shape and charges towards him. Approaching the thing turns his stomach, but he launches himself at Remus, shoving him backwards, away from the trunk, just as a purplish, claw-like hand descends on his shoulder.

Back in his human form, he pushes and pulls Remus along with him, until they are a safe distance away, and Remus seems to have come back to his senses. Then Sirius is violently sick in a thornbush.

‘Are there many of them?’ Remus wants to know. ‘What do they look like? Are they translucent? Shapeless?’

‘Corpses,’ Sirius coughs. ‘They look like - bloated corpses. Lots of them. Sticking out of the tree.’

‘Oh.’ Remus thinks for a moment. ‘Right. Are you all right?’ When Sirius nods feebly, he takes a few steps forward, and brandishing his wand, he points it at the sky above the haunted tree. Sirius doesn’t recognise the incantation, a long and menacing sounding chant in a foreign tongue. 

He watches in amazement as clouds form overhead, whirling into an ever growing maelstrom, blacking out the sky. Remus’ wand arm is twitching under the strain, but he keeps it steadily pointing up, until there’s a low rumble in the distance. Sirius can feel a surge of tension in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Finally, Remus whispers something like _‘Fulmen!’_ and releases his arm. There’s a blinding flash and an almighty crack, and the tree has been clean split in two. 

Remus shakes out his wand hand and huffs with relief. ‘We could’ve put them to sleep,’ he shrugs, ‘but what would be the point?’

Stunned, Sirius watches several burnt branches crash to the ground, a column of black smoke rising from the ashes. Then he spots something else. A slithering thing, scurrying out from between the gnarled, smouldering halves of the charred trunk. Acting on impulse, he fires a Blasting Hex at it. There’s a small explosion, and the thing ceases to move. Still, he adds two more blasts for luck.

\---

Comfortably stretched out in bed, Sirius lowers Remus’ battered copy of _Compleat Daemons of the British Isles_ when Remus wanders in. Wiping a stray remnant of toothpaste from his lips, Moony is lost in thought. He runs a hand through his thick, greying hair, and takes off his shirt and jumper. Sirius can’t help smiling, casting his book aside. He’s always liked watching Remus undress. The gentle ripple of muscles as he moves, the intimate pattern of scars on his skin. The unselfconscious tilt of his head as he goes through the motions, neatly putting his clothes away, pulling on his pyjama bottoms, going to find the little jar of ointment. 

‘Let me,’ Sirius says quickly, and Remus nods and perches on the edge of Sirius’ side of the bed. Sirius unscrews the jar and gets to work. It’s a deep scratch near his shoulder blade that’s been causing Remus trouble, a souvenir from their altercation with the infested tree. Sirius dips his fingers into the opalescent balm and carefully applies it to the wound. 

‘Shall we have this party, then?’ Remus asks suddenly.

‘I suppose we ought to,’ Sirius agrees without much enthusiasm. The pungent herbal smell of the stuff mixes with Remus’ heady scent, and Sirius’ fingers linger, spreading as they slide down the strong back. ‘We can’t avoid them forever. It’d be nice to get everyone together. Show off this place, now that it’s almost ready.’

Kissing the back of Remus’ neck, Sirius lets his hands follow the lines of Remus’ body, down towards his hips. Past the violent scar of the werewolf bite, just skimming the strange hollow gouged into his side - ‘blood sacrifice,’ as Remus had explained it to him, joking that luckily for him, the living flesh of a Dark creature had been easy enough to come by. Sirius’ fingers move to his front, and across his gorgeous chest. ‘And, you know.’ He tweaks Remus’ nipples. ‘Celebrate a bit.’ 

Chuckling, Remus leans into him, turning to kiss him full on the lips. ‘Let’s celebrate a bit now,’ he murmurs breathlessly between kisses, pushing Sirius back down onto his pillow and climbing on top of him. ‘We have got rather a lot to celebrate.’

\---


	3. Chapter 3

They track the creature down near the cliffs, in the hills between the ruins of a deserted village and a graveyard. The evening is dark, and a harsh wind is blowing in from the sea, but the tall figure saunters along, dawdling here and there, unconcerned by the freezing cold. It is a large, ferocious looking man, part giant perhaps, dressed in animal skins and a tattered cloak. Scanning the marshy ground, it talks loudly to itself, before picking up a boulder, and bellowing something indistinct, sending it crashing into a distant wall. 

‘That’s no Redcap,’ Remus whispers, sounding worried. ‘Not a goblin, either.’

There’s been much talk in the village pub of something evil poisoning the land, killing cattle, bludgeoning lone wanderers to death, causing untold destruction. Howling now, the figure stamps its feet, before kicking a sunken gravestone.

Remus gives Sirius a look. ‘I think it might be a Sluagh. A trapped spirit.’ 

‘And it’s bloody angry about it,’ Sirius nods. ‘Not that I blame it, sod all to do around here.’ 

‘Whatever you do, don’t touch it.’

When their first hexes hit it, the large creature twitches, as though shaking off a fly. Raising itself up to its full height, it looks out across the empty, windswept land. It spots Sirius and Remus at once, bellows again, and starts to march straight towards them.

Remus’ spellwork is spectacular. He’s firing curse after curse in relentless succession, jets of light lighting up the sky. Sirius glances over at him in awe, only belatedly realising that Moony is panicking. None of their curses seem to have much of an effect. 

The creature is coming ever closer, walking with heavy, unhurried steps. Apparently fascinated by their efforts, trying to touch the colourful bursts of magic passing right through its chest. Its bare arms and legs are covered in intricate blue designs. 

‘Back off, will you?’ Sirius shouts at it, turning to Moony. ‘This is old magic, what is he - a Viking?’ 

‘A Pict, he looks like a Pict,’ Remus says urgently. ‘Do not touch him, Sirius.’ 

The Pict is coming at Remus, baring formidable teeth, and lifting his great bronze axe. 

Remus makes a strange flailing movement with his arms. Stepping back, he clutches his head. Throwing his arms out forcefully, he shouts some sort of curse, his voice booming, throaty and strange. Seeing Moony perform obscure magic gets to Sirius every time. Whether as a wizard or as a werewolf, the powers contained in this gentle, unassuming man never fail to send shivers down his spine. 

A ball of purple light explodes around the Pict, engulfing him in liquid flames. He staggers to a halt, staring in amazement, but seems otherwise unperturbed. As soon as the flames fade, he raises his axe, stretching out a large hand to touch Remus. Desperate to stop him, Sirius keeps up his rapid stream of Curses, giving it all he’s got, reaching for every last hex he knows. None of it is working. 

Retreating a bit further, Remus starts on another enchantment, thrusting out his arms again. Just as the creature brings down the axe, there’s an almighty bang. The sluagh stumbles backwards, letting out a deep, harrowing cry. It topples over and flails to the ground, where it lies twitching. Remus is on his back just a few yards away, obviously winded. And by something about his shocked expression Sirius knows that it’s worse than that. He’s been hurt. There’s no time to lose. 

Before he can even get to Moony, the thing clumsily raises itself up again. Its blood curdling hiss turns Sirius’ stomach, but trying to distract the spectre from Remus, he approaches the pale, semi-solid figure. 

He keeps firing curses at it, unrelenting in his attack. It pays Sirius no mind at all, walking straight past him. 

A trapped spirit, Remus said. A Pict. And he’s suddenly grateful for his bloody insomnia, all those sleepless nights spent reading up in the study, because now he knows what to do. 

He takes two rapid steps towards the Sluagh and extends his hand. 

‘Don’t touch it!’ Remus’ terrified scream rings in his ears as the air compresses around him. He’s holding on to the thing’s bony wrist, strangely insubstantial, but solid and clammy wherever his fingers press against it.

There’s a roaring sea, waves crashing against rock, battering the sharp, sheer cliffs behind them. They’re high up on a crag, a narrow island, barely the size of a Quidditch pitch. The rocky ground is covered with moss and fragrant herbs, and a strange mist ahead of them obscures the very centre of the island. 

Sirius’ heartbeat is thumping in his throat, but he’s got them to the right place. It looks exactly like the picture in Remus’ book.

The Pict is very still, staring with wide, dead eyes. 

‘Here you go,’ Sirius says gruffly. ‘This is where you need to be.’ He gestures encouragingly. ‘Go on. Piss off. Your afterlife awaits.’

When the Sluagh doesn’t move, Sirius puts a hand on his back and gives him a little shove. There’s no time to hang about. He needs to get back to Moony.

The Pict turns to look at Sirius. He’s not smiling exactly. Then he stomps off unsteadily, into the mist.

The crack of Sirius’ Apparition echoes eerily from the distant hills. It’s started to drizzle, and there is Remus, slumped on the loamy ground. Sirius rushes to his side. Examining the unconscious body, he uncovers a nasty wound just below Moony’s collarbone, bleeding profusely. But, to Sirius’ immense relief, Remus has only fainted. Sirius shakes him, slapping him lightly, calling his name again and again. Suddenly Remus’ eyes fly open, and he draws a long, shuddering breath. Staring in shock, he half whispers something.

‘You’re all right, Moony,’ Sirius insists nervously. ‘It’s gone. It’ll be all right. Can you get up?’

It’s raining when they arrive outside the inn, chucking it down,. flooding the road, drenching them within seconds. 

‘Come on, Moony.’ Remus is sort of awake, and shivering, but almost dead weight. Sirius drags him past the concierge, ready to Stupefy her if she should try to stop them. But she’s talking on the phone and just returns his charming smile, no matter that Remus is half passed out and they’re trailing muddy water all over the flagstones.

Sirius helps Remus climb the steep, creaking stairs. Their room is strangely quiet, out of the hammering rain, and wonderfully warm after the needling, icy deluge. Remus collapses into an armchair, while Sirius rushes to run a hot bath. The tub is very deep, and turning on the taps he briefly considers Aguamenti, but the water runs fast, steam billowing forth as it pools at the bottom. Testing the temperature, only a thin, watery grey issues from his skin.

Remembering a trick he learned from Kingsley, he Transfigures two potted plants on the window sill into medicinal herbs. Washing his hands in the sink, Sirius takes a deep breath in the mirror. He’s not panicking, they’ve both been through worse. It’s just a part of this job.

‘All right,’ he says cheerily, firmly patting Moony’s cheek to rouse him. ‘Up you get, no slacking.’ In a stupor, unable to keep his eyes open, Remus allows himself to be stripped of his wet clothes. Sirius casts a heating charm for now, the bath will do the rest. The wound on Remus’ chest is still bleeding, it looks dark and angry, and disconcertingly deep. 

Grasping his wand, and the herbs, he proceeds with the healing. At first Moony literally howls. Tossing his head, biting back a stream of expletives. He keeps writhing and cursing, almost falling off the edge of the tub, only gradually calming down. By the time Sirius is done, having meticulously applied the sequence of spells, Remus is sitting bolt upright, shivering a little, and trying to control his breathing.

‘Better?’ Sirius cups Moony’s stubbly cheek. 

Remus nods sharply, lifting his gaze. He stands up so rapidly that Sirius, surprised, takes a step back. ‘Thank you,’ Remus bites out, staring at him fiercely.

Sirius makes a gruff, dismissive sound and leans in to kiss him. He can feel Remus’ hands on his shirt, and their lips barely touch before Sirius is thrown backwards, slamming into the wall.

‘How could you?’ Remus snarls. ‘Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me?’ 

Sirius shrinks back, startled by the menace in Remus’ voice. 

‘Didn’t think, did you. What’s bloody new.’ Remus snorts, shaking his head. He’s frightening, even in nothing but his pants. 

Sirius squirms under his fearsome stare, and swallows hard. ‘Course I did!’ he protests. ‘And I managed to release him. It was the only way -’

‘Was it? I thought you were dead. Next time I’ll just bloody kill you myself, shall I? Get it over with once and for all.’ Remus keeps pushing him into the wall. ‘You know they collect souls! You knew their touch is deadly.’ 

Sirius doesn’t fight back, but he catches Remus’ wrists.  
‘Nothing was working,’ he insists. ‘I was only-’

‘We would’ve done it. Shaken him off easily,’ Remus takes a step back. His stare is unbearable. ‘Of course you couldn’t wait,’ he spits, ‘you had to come marching in and take over, play the bloody hero, didn’t you?’ 

Confused, Sirius wonders if Remus is delirious. He was right there! He did see that nothing else was working.

‘I don’t need saving, Sirius.’ Remus hisses. ‘I do not want your bloody self sacrifice.’

Unnerved by Remus’ fury, Sirius nods, swallowing hard. ‘R-right. I’m sorry.’ His legs are feeling a bit shaky.

Remus doesn’t let up. ‘I just want you to tell me,’ he demands harshly, ‘why you’ll insist on doing this?’ 

‘On doing what?’ 

‘Leaving.’ Remus stares at him wildly. ‘Whether or not you mean to - it amounts to the same thing. Why do you keep leaving?’

‘I’m not,’ Sirius chokes out, dumbfounded. ‘Bloody hell, Remus. That’s never –’ He shakes his head in despair. ‘Moony, I have never left you. Not once. All I keep doing is coming back.’ 

\---

He wakes up suddenly, shivering in the grey morning light. And alone. 

‘Remus?’ He calls out, getting up and pushing open the creaking bedroom door. ‘Moony?’

His voice echoes forlornly in the dark hallway. There is no answer.

Down in the kitchen he makes a cup of tea, then notices the small glass bottle by the sugar bowl. _This is for you,_ reads the note pencilled in Remus’ fluid script.

For a moment Sirius stares at the silvery liquid swirling in the bottle. Then he finds a bowl for a makeshift Pensieve and empties the memory into it.

He finds himself in a dark, cavernous office, lined with shelves upon shelves crammed with all sorts of strange paraphernalia.

At his scuffed desk, Moody leans in to examine a shiny black stone, no larger than a chicken egg. Then he stares up at Remus, his eyes wide in disbelief. ‘Where did you get this?’ 

‘In Crete.’ Remus looks terrible, and almost feverish. His face is drawn, and there are dark circles under his eyes. ‘I found it by accident. Or perhaps it found me. It took me some time to discover what it was.’ 

‘And you’re sure about this?’ Moody he asks gruffly. ‘A stone of Horkos.’

‘I’m in no doubt at all.’

Mad Eye touches it, curious yet reluctant. ‘You’re not planning to use it, surely?’ 

‘Yes.’ Remus says evenly. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘Remus!’ Mad Eye fixes him intently, his magical eye swerving wildly. ‘You don’t need me to tell you that this is very dangerous magic. You’d be lucky to survive any attempt, never mind actually achieve it.’ 

Nodding grimly, Remus holds his gaze.

‘And there is a cost, don’t forget. It can be horrendous.’ When Remus doesn’t react, Moody glares at him. ‘This is madness! It’s never been done! Not successfully. It’ll kill you, as soon as anything!’ 

Remus shrugs. ‘Well, something is bound to. Might as well be this.’

Cursing wildly, Moody shakes his head. ‘What about the Order?’ he thunders. ‘The war? We need you. Harry needs you! You can’t be serious about this nonsense. Throwing your life away!’ 

Even his bluster has no effect. Remus stays remarkably, eerily calm. ‘There’s something Sirius said to me, not long after his escape. About not waiting around to be happy, but to pursue joy, here and now. If necessary, to go after it with a club.’

Moody leans in closer. ‘Bending someone’s will like that is very Dark magic. What if he doesn’t want to come back?’ he booms. ‘Might be torture for him. In war time, and everything. Sirius was not a happy man.’

‘I can assure you that he didn’t want to die,’ Remus says firmly. ‘But I could never force him back to life. I’m just going to call him. Sirius can choose to heed the call, or choose not to.’

‘Lunacy!’ Mad Eye mutters. ‘Utter lunacy.’ Hey drops the black stone onto the table in disgust, shrinking away from it as though it were noxious. 

‘You know I’m not asking you for permission, Alastor.’ Remus gently picks up the stone, wraps it in a scrap of fabric and stowes it away in his breast pocket. ‘As a friend, I’m asking for your help.’

\---

The memory shifts, and now Sirius is in a small, dimly lit kitchen at night. Tonks sits at a tiny table by a window overlooking a quiet street, her damp hair a dull mousey brown. Outside, it’s snowing profusely. 

‘It’s just while the owners are away on holiday,’ Remus says. ‘Handy for short stays, you know?’ He seems nervous, or excited, as he gets out a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses. ‘Feels like years since I’ve had anyone over.’ Judging by the tone of his voice, they must’ve been drinking elsewhere before this. 

‘Are the werewolves still keeping you busy?’ Tonks asks after her first deep swig.

He shrugs. ‘Sort of.’ 

‘Mad Eye’s told me about your plan,’ she says earnestly. ‘He’s worried sick about you. Which is saying something. You’re not really planning to do it, are you?’

Taking a large gulp of whisky, Remus closes his eyes. ‘I think I am.’

‘You can’t!’ She protests loudly, before adjusting her volume. ‘Remus, that’s a mental thing to do.’

‘Yes. I know.’ He smiles and runs a hand across his face, hesitating before he continues. ‘But I can’t not do it. What difference does it make anyway? As it is, I’m risking my life every day. I can’t carry on living like this. So I might as well do it.’

Tonks looks horrified. ‘It might kill you, or maim you. I’ve heard stories…’

‘Yes,’ Remus sighs. ‘I’ve read them, too. I’ve heard about the man who literally lost his head, the woman who went insane. There haven’t been many attempts, and hardly any that seem to have been successful. But it’s only ever the accidents you hear about. No one in their right mind would boast about the fact they’d managed it, would they. They’d be inundated by requests, with people - and the press! - bothering them all day long.’ The words pour out of him as though he hasn’t spoken in weeks, as though this is giving him some relief. 

‘The way I see it,’ he says after another long slug of whisky, ‘of course it is very difficult, and it may well destroy me. I honestly don’t care. I’ve lost almost everyone who’s ever been important to me. I’ve lost Sirius twice. If there is a way of getting him back, I can’t not try it. You must see that.’

‘Yes.’ Tonks stares at him in consternation. ‘I suppose I do.’ Her voice is very quiet now. ‘I still miss him. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you. Every hour of every day.’

Remus knocks back some more of his drink. ‘I was fine without him, eventually,’ he says thickly. ‘A version of fine. I’d learnt to live with the grief, of losing James and Lily, and losing Sirius. Losing him completely, disowning everything we’d had, hating him for years. You know, when we saw each other again, after he got out…’ His voice cracks, he gulps down more whisky. ‘I don’t believe in the idea of soulmates, or any of that rubbish. But it hurts, living without him. We’d already lost twelve years, and the Veil... It’s not right. I refuse to carry on like this. If there is even the remotest chance that I won’t have to, then I’m taking it. That’s all there is to it.’

‘I see,’ says Tonks after a pause. ‘I suppose, if anyone can pull it off… Where? And when?’

‘I’ve found another place, like this - out of the way, and empty. It wouldn’t interfere with any other magic. And it won’t be long now, I’ve almost got everything I need.’

She swallows hard. ‘Aren’t you afraid?’

Remus smiles. ‘Not a bit.’ 

\---

When Sirius pulls out of the Pensieve, it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. He thinks he can hear something scratching at the window, and jumps up to investigate, wand at the ready to blast whatever it is into next week. But there’s nothing there. Just the wind outside, blowing a strand of ivy against the glass.

Feeling a bit stiff, he pads up the stairs and into their beautiful new bathroom. He strips out of his pyjamas, steps into the roll top bath with griffin’s feet, and turns on the shower. His chest is still tight, and there’s a painful lump in his throat. He closes his eyes, lathers his hair, scrubs himself down. Still warmed by the comforting stream, he casts the shaving charm, and cleans his teeth. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice until later, randomly glancing at the last of the water whirling down the plug hole. Stunned, he turns on the cold tap, and generously splashes his face, his hands. The water runs entirely clear.

\---

At the Ministry, he’s made to wait for a very long time. In the elegant waiting area up on the 8th floor, he tries not to pace up and down the hectically patterned carpet. He sits in one of the armchairs, only to jump up again barely a minute later. He can’t focus on the Prophet. He tries not to think of anything. When he asks to speak to Tonks, the desk clerk informs him that she’s away, in Bulgaria on a mission.

Half a lifetime later, during which he’s seen Moony arrested, tried, thrown into prison, and worse, a throng of people appears from a distant corridor. Ministerial aides, officials, and two Unspeakables, too. 

In the general commotion, Sirius’ glance idly falls on a figure in a sharp dark Muggle suit amidst all the colourful flowing robes. The man is partly obscured by the gaggle of people, but watching him smoothly stroll along, Sirius admires his sleek silhouette, the strong shoulders and narrow hips, hinting at what might be a spectacular arse. His breath hitches when he recognises the battered leather case, and the hand holding the handle.

‘Excuse me, Mr Black,’ says a familiar voice at his elbow. It’s Madam Proditt, smiling up at him from under her wispy grey hair. ‘Just a fair warning, my colleagues from the other Chamber will be contacting you some time in the next few months. They’d very much like to speak to you and are wildly jealous that we got to grill you first! Then again, dealing with matters of death and eternity and suchlike, as they do, nothing is ever all that urgent with them.’

‘Death?’ Sirius asks, confused. ‘Isn’t that your department?’

‘Oh no!’ She giggles, as though he’s made a funny joke. ‘I work on love, of course!’ Noticing his expression, she explains. ‘As a close friend of the Potter family, you’ll know - and this is no slight on Mr Lupin’s extraordinary abilities, by the way! - that only love can make these extreme feats of magic happen. It’s truly powerful. Endlessly fascinating.’

Patting his arm, she sidles off. Sirius lifts his gaze to find Remus there, walking towards him. Looking magnificent, grinning sheepishly. 

‘How did it go?’ Sirius demands urgently, swallowing down the lump in his throat. ‘Nice suit.’

Remus is even wearing cufflinks. ‘They arrived this morning,’ he shrugs. ‘Thought I’d make a bit of an effort. And it went all right. Great, in fact.’

‘Good.’ Sirius lets out a sigh of relief, and takes Remus’ hand. ‘Thank you for leaving me those memories.’

Remus grins at him. ‘All that is over now,’ he says roughly, squeezing Sirius’ hand, before elbowing him in the side. ‘Come on then. Let’s get out of here.’

\---

**Epilogue.**

They woke slowly, together.

The solid shape of Remus.

‘You,’ he said out loud. ‘I’ve come to see you.’

Remus nodded slowly, watching him. ‘You came back,’ he spoke in a hoarse whisper.

‘Yeah!’ Sirius swallowed. ‘I’m not sure how...’

‘I asked you to,’ Remus said. ‘Do you remember that?’

Sirius frowned, trying to remember. ‘I heard you. Your voice, or I dunno, your presence. I felt you there. You were - reaching for me. Pulling me out. I followed you, I had to follow. And then I suddenly woke up. On that bench in St James’s Park, of all places.’

Remus nodded uneasily. ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘My feet hurt a bit... all that walking. Otherwise brilliant.’ Sirius squeezed his arm, shifting even closer. ‘Remus,’ he said huskily. ‘Moony.’ He nuzzled his neck, and kissed him. They couldn’t stop kissing.

‘What was it like there?’ Remus asked eventually.

‘Shadowy. Strange. There were a lot of people there. I can’t really - I mean. It was another place. Beautiful, I think.’ 

‘Oh.’ Remus was still staring, with a pained expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ he ground out at last.

‘Not at all!’ Sirius says with emphasis. ‘I’ve always liked being alive. And you do realise you are in my debt now. For bestowing on you the great privilege of restoring a life.’

‘But I made you leave,’ whispered Remus.

Sirius snorted. ‘Yeah, and thank Merlin you did. Let me tell you, I was more than ready to leave. Do you think I might have something to eat?’

‘Definitely.’ Remus was grinning now.

‘Brilliant.’ Sirius gently traced the features of the other man’s quiet face, the shadows under his eyes, the slightly crooked nose, before cupping Moony’s cheek. ‘Thank you for asking me back.’


End file.
